


fight the good fight

by motheyes



Series: apotheosis 'verse [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Eret Redemption (Video Blogging RPF), Explosions, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen, Niki's Bakery as a Metaphor for Love, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Traitor Eret (Video Blogging RPF), WE DID IT FELLAS WE ADDED THE FOOD TAG TO ANOTHER ONE OF MY FICS, if i weren't already corruption kin i might become desolation kin, more in future - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motheyes/pseuds/motheyes
Summary: Eret sees the rise, and fall, and rise again of L'Manburg.It's unfortunate that they see its final downfall as well.(or: despite everything, eret only has the best of intentions.)
Relationships: Eret & Floris | Fundy, Eret & Niki | Nihachu & Toby Smith | Tubbo, No Romantic Relationship(s), all platonic here xoxo, theyre family your honor
Series: apotheosis 'verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973764
Comments: 16
Kudos: 111





	1. summertime is gone

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: this is about the characters from the roleplay on the smp, not about the actual people!! if i learn this violates boundaries it's getting yeeted. also, this is canon divergent in a big way, both with overarching plot and with exact dialogue. that doesn't apply to this fic as much as it did to the other two, but i still feel like i should mention it.
> 
> that being said, i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> chapter title is from "outset island" by the hot freaks. banger song.
> 
> big big thanks to my friend for betaing this!! you've been a massive help dude.

It starts, as most things do, with L’Manburg.

The war is over and done with, replaced by a shaky, unsteady peace. Eret does their best to not bother with the politics anymore, though. After all, it’s not like there’s a place in the discussion for them anymore, not when Wilbur hates them and Dream doesn’t trust them.

Without the battles of the war or the tense peace meetings of the aftermath, it almost feels _too_ quiet. So, Eret pours all their time and energy into finishing their castle. The work is good for them; it keeps their hands and mind busy, keeps their thoughts from straying to things they really shouldn’t be thinking about. It’s weeks before Eret emerges from the mines for the last time to place the final smooth-stone block on their castle’s walls.

When they take a step back to see the fruits of their labor, it takes their breath away. The castle is a magnificent thing. It stands at three stories tall with long, colorful windows to match, and it must be a hundred blocks in width. The surrounding walls and parapets, made from the same smooth stone as the castle, make for an imposing yet beautiful entrance. 

This castle is fit for a king.

At least, it is on the outside. The inside is unfurnished and bare. There are a dozen rooms, but they are nothing but cold stone walls and hard wood floors. The courtyard, with its perfectly sculpted fountain, is empty of any plants except for the perfectly-kept grass. The tall stained-glass windows let the light in and scatter dappled rainbows on the floors, but the sun’s warmth is choked out before it reaches the golden throne.

Eret has made this kingdom for themself through months of work, though, and so they make do. It doesn’t matter if the rooms are quiet. It doesn’t matter if the path leading up to the castle’s doors is empty.

They don’t have much to do, now that the castle is finished. They try to find things to do, books to read, projects to start, but they can feel the boredom and restlessness settling in their bones with each passing day.

It’s possible to see the entirety of the SMP from the top of the battlements, L’Manburg included. Eret finds that out when they’re sitting up there one afternoon with nothing else to do.

It doesn’t help that the rest of the server is constantly moving. Eret’s aware of what goes on, in the larger strokes; they can hear and see bits of the action from atop the roof of their castle. The finer details, though, the emotion of it all, that’s smoothed out by the careful distance placed between Eret’s kingdom and the rest of the server.

The final straw comes when they wake up one morning to see a flag flying high over L’Manburg - it’s a design Eret hasn’t seen before, three crosses over red, white, black, and blue. They know nothing about this flag, they realize. They don’t know who built it, or the history behind it, or what it symbolizes.

So they think, _fuck it._ They decide they’re going to involve themself. It’s not like they have anything better to do with their time.

They’re going to build a tower and cause problems on purpose.

Just as the castle before it did, the new tower occupies their hands and gives them something to _do_. Working on this tower gives them the first reprieve from their restlessness in a long time.

And, when the tower’s finished, when it’s sufficiently taller than everything around it, they stand at its top and find that they can look directly down into L’Manburg’s center.

Someone (Fundy, they later learn) takes it down within the week. So, they rebuild it with an obsidian frame. Then, they build a second tower for good measure.

Some small part of them hums in joy, seeing L’Manburg acknowledge their presence, even if that acknowledgement comes in the form of curses being hurled at them by Tommy and impromptu tower removals by Fundy. 

The towers are cold stone, though, and the faint thrum of satisfaction is gone sooner rather than later, and then Eret is back to the tired monotony of their life.

They’re wandering down the Prime Path without purpose, one day, when Niki passes them. They hold themself tall, used to the way that Wilbur or Tommy or even Tubbo, sometimes, would glare at them, but Niki doesn’t do that.

Instead, she waves.

Hesitantly, Eret waves back.

Niki smiles and keeps walking, and Eret stares after her.

When she does it again, a couple days later, that confirms that it’s not a one-off fluke. They don’t know why, not when she still wears her pastel blue uniform around the server, but they aren’t exactly in a position to complain. 

So, when she continues to wave at them or say hi when they pass each other on the Prime Path, Eret waves and says hi back.

That evolves into short conversations, from time to time. They never go past small talk, and they’re often cut short by either Eret or Niki needing to leave, but they’re conversations nonetheless. Eret savors them. 

A few weeks go by until the server is given a day with beautiful weather. It’s one of those days in the grey area between summer and fall, where the air has lost the humid drone of summer but hasn’t started to get too cold just yet. Eret’s making the most of it, patching up a crack in one of their tower’s walls from Fundy’s most recent griefing attempt, when someone calls their name. They turn. Standing just on the very edge of the Prime Path is Niki.

She lifts the basket she’s holding towards them. “Would you like a cookie?”

“Of course,” they say, leaning their pickaxe against the wall. When they bite into the cookie, it’s warm and crumbly, the chocolate still goopy and soft. “How’s it going, Niki?”

“It’s been great!” she enthuses, putting the basket’s covering back in place. “The bakery’s sales have been up, and I think Fundy and I have secured Tubbo’s vote.”

Eret blinks. “Vote?” they ask. An uneasy smile cracks on their face.

“Oh! I suppose you haven’t heard about the election,” Niki says. “Fundy and I are running together, for president and vice president of L’Manburg. COCONUT2020!” She beams.

“That’s - that’s cool.” Eret shakes off the jealousy that simmers low in their chest, and hesitantly, they smile back at her. “I’m rooting for you two!”

Niki cheers. “Thank you! I have to go make a delivery, but it was nice talking!” She does a little wave in their direction, before she turns and walks away.

The smile falls off Eret’s face as they watch her go. The sugar coating the insides of their mouth is cloyingly, chokingly sweet now.

It makes sense, they think, that they would be the last to learn of the election. They purposefully betrayed L’Manburg, and they’ve kept their distance from both sides even after the war. They’re alone by choice.

So, then, why does it hurt?


	2. i go about my business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eret already regrets their betrayal. Now, all they need is a push in the right direction.

A few weeks more, and Eret finds themself sitting in the newly-constructed seating area below the wooden grandstand, the crowd cheering around them as Schlatt leans into the microphone with a grin that’s wide and sharp.

Wilbur and Tommy turn tail and run, and L’Manburg chases them out, and Eret is finally forced to confront that toiling ball of emotion that’s been sitting deep in their stomach since the day they took Dream’s outstretched hand.

Wilbur and Tommy run, and Eret watches them go, standing stock still.

And, isn’t it an odd thing, that Eret never really stopped calling Wilbur “President Soot” in their head? Isn’t it odd that it never stopped hurting to see Tommy stumble as an arrow flies past his head?

“Tubbo, come here,” Schlatt says, and Eret’s white, blank eyes turn to look up at the podium again. They’re frozen in place, still desperately trying to process what’s happening.

Slowly, so slowly, Tubbo ascends the side of the hill. He looks lost and out of place on that stage, his tattered green shirt a sharp, sharp contrast to Schlatt’s pristine suit.

“What do you need, Mister President?” His voice is just barely picked up by the microphone.

“Why, you’re to be my new Secretary of State, of course!” His smile is even sharper, somehow, like an animal baring its teeth. “We couldn’t just fire you, could we? You’re Tubbo!”

“Yessir!” Quackity crows, and Tubbo looks profoundly uncomfortable.

“Thank you, sir?” he tries. Eret sees his flinch as Schlatt claps a hand on his shoulder.

“No problem, kiddo.” 

Eret remembers the way Dream smiled when they took his hand. They remember the way he gloated when their betrayal was realized, when Wilbur cast them out and cursed as they went.

“Now, I want you to find Wilbur and Tommy and  _ show them the way out _ .”

Tubbo hesitates. His eyes meet Eret’s for just a second, and Eret nods ever so slightly. They hope he sees it.

“Yes, sir,” Tubbo says, voice shaky, and it looks like he can’t get off the stage fast enough. Eret can’t blame him.

Schlatt watches him leave, before turning back to the microphone.

“Now, with that out of the way.” He oozes smugness, from the tip of his curved horns to the bottoms of his cloven feet. “Second order of business. I think that L’Manburg has been confined within these restrictive walls for long enough.”

He gestures towards the walls, towards Eret’s creation. Down below, in the audience, Eret stiffens.

“Tear them down.”

The rest of the crowd moving as one to obey Schlatt provides perfect cover for Eret to slip away, close to the walls and out of sight.

They don’t quite know where they’re going; maybe it’s back to their castle, maybe it’s after Wilbur and Tommy. Maybe it’s just as far away as possible. Either way, they just  _ go _ , until their foot catches on a root of one of the tall redwood trees and they pitch forward, just barely managing to catch themself on the walls of L’Manburg.

Eret stops, then, and turns to look back at the way they came from, their hand braced against the blackstone bricks.

Behind them, a familiar orange-furred head approaches, a pickaxe in his hand.

“C’mon, man, join in the festivities!” Fundy exclaims when he sees them.

Eret doesn’t respond. They know that they were quick to drop L’Manburg, easily swayed by the first hint of money and power flashed their way, but to see Wilbur’s son doing the same… something feels wrong about that.

“What, are you not excited to tear down these oppressive walls?”

“This isn’t right.”

Fundy’s quiet for a moment, sizing them up, and then he leans in and lowers his tone until Eret has to strain to hear him speak.

“Up with the revolution,” he says, and Eret sucks in a sharp breath. “I am not on Schlatt’s side. Don’t get caught.”

Their eyes meet his as he steps away. And, well, maybe Eret’s underestimated Fundy yet again.

His words are a threat and an olive branch all at once. They’re a promise of  _ I trust you enough to tell you this, but gods help you if you betray me again. _

And Eret? Eret doesn’t intend on being the traitor a second time around.

So, they step aside, and Fundy raises his pickaxe, and Eret watches as L’Manburg falls all over again.

For just a moment, they allow themself to linger, as the pickaxe hits the wall again and again, chips of blackstone flying in every direction, a grim smile fixed on Fundy’s face.

Time is limited, though, and they can hear Schlatt’s booming voice getting closer and closer. So, they tear themself away, pocketing as many bricks as possible as they go.

Niki shouts in the distance. She was one of the only ones to protest when Schlatt took the stage, Eret remembers. She’s always been kind to them. They follow her voice.

She’s standing by the old entrance to L’Manburg, begging Quackity to stop as he quietly chips away at the walls.

“Eret!” she exclaims when she sees them. “I’m so glad you’re here. Help me stop this.”

“...We should go,” is all they say, Fundy’s words fresh in their mind.

“What?”

“Let’s go,” they say again. Niki frowns up at them with judgemental, accusing eyes.

“And just let the walls fall?” she spits. “I know you left L’Manburg to burn once already, but this is ridiculous.”

Eret flinches. “That’s not fair,” they say, hyper-aware of the way that Quackity’s stopped chipping away at the walls in order to watch them argue.

“Isn’t it?”

“Can we not do this here?” They nod towards Quackity. Niki glances at him, too, and frowns.

“No! Give me a reason why I should walk away.” Her eyes, focused back on Eret, are piercing. “I am on L’Manburg’s side. I will not sit idly by and let it fall.” 

“I am, too,” Eret says, quietly. And, surprisingly, they find that it’s true.

“Then help me  _ stop this _ !” Niki’s voice raises into a yell.

Eret sighs. “Listen,” they say, as quietly as possible. “What can we do right now? Everyone’s on Schlatt’s side. We need to  _ lay low _ .”

Niki’s quiet, for a moment, looking from Eret to Quackity and back to Eret again. 

“Let’s go,” Eret says yet again.

She huffs a sigh.

“Fine.” 

Niki strides away in the direction of her bakery. As Eret follows her, they look back, and their eyes meet Quackity’s. Hesitantly, they nod. What that nod says, be it hello or goodbye or just simple recognition, they don’t know.

Quackity looks away sharply and keeps swinging his pickaxe. Eret hurries after Niki.

She stops by Eret’s tower, the one up the hill from the grandstand. When they catch up to her, she’s turned to look up at them again.

“What do we do, then?”

“...I’m not sure,” they admit. “But, we can’t risk getting locked up or exiled right now. We’re more useful where we can get information.”

“We lay low,” Niki says, eyebrows raised. She’s surveying them almost appreciatively, now. “We make ourselves seem like as small of a threat as possible.”

“Exactly.”

They share a slight grin, a fleeting moment of hope in the middle of a nightmare.

Distantly, beyond the slowly crumbling walls of L’Manburg, a cheer goes up. Niki and Eret both focus in on it, just in time to see the wooden flagpole catch fire. And, just like that, that hope is chased out of them.

Eret sucks in a breath. The fire crawls up the flagpole, towards the flag itself.

“No,” Niki gasps. “No.”

The first sparks reach the wool of the flag. It goes up almost instantly. The fire is bright, so bright that Eret would shield their eyes, were they not already wearing their sunglasses.

Niki wails in pain and anger and grief. Eret’s hand finds her shoulder. They don’t know who it is they’re steadying.

Together, like that, they look over L’Manburg. The walls that Eret built are crumbling, half-torn down and backlit by the burning flag that they know Niki spent hours designing, and they can finally admit it.

L’Manburg never stopped being their home.

They turn to look at Niki. She looks back at them, face cast in fire-thrown shadows.

Their hope may be gone, but in its place is anger and raw desperation.

“We’re going to take this country back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heya!
> 
> i've been makin some changes to the apotheosis verse. first of all, "it takes a village" is no longer part of the main story. i'm gonna rework fundy's pov. this is my first major writing project and so my skill is improving in real time as i write, and i've realized that parts of what i've already written don't hold up too well. hopefully the final product will be something coherent and fun LMAO.
> 
> also, i'm sorry this took me so long! i've been dealing with a lot of school shit and a general lack of motivation :,0 hopefully chapter 3 will come out a lot faster! it's already mostly written, so. that's pog.
> 
> Some Shit sure has gone down since ch1 of this went live, huh? i wrote a fic about my ideal ending for l'manburg's story. it's called this too shall pass - please go check it out if you're interested, i'm really proud of it.
> 
> thank you all for bearing with me :,) will see you soon hopefully!


	3. i would give anything

“Hello!” Eret calls, their hands too full to knock on the door.

A pan clangs from inside. “Come in!”

After a few minutes and a lot of odd positioning, Eret manages to unlatch the door and kick it open with one foot. They slide through the entrance of the bakery, ferrying their cargo over to the kitchen.

“I have the goods,” they joke, holding out the steaming basket of baked potatoes they have in their hands.

Niki looks up from setting the table. “Oh, wonderful!” She stops, and then frowns. “I could have gotten the door for you.”

Eret’s response, something along the lines of _it’s alright, don’t worry about it_ , is cut off by a sharp knock-knock-knock.

Niki’s head snaps towards the entrance to the bakery. “One second!” She gently places the last fork on the table before hurrying over, clearly unwilling to repeat the same mistake she’d made with Eret. They smile after her and set the basket down between the butter dish and the plate of steak.

When Niki returns to the kitchen, it’s with Tubbo in tow. Even after seeing it a hundred times, Eret’s still taken aback for a moment at the new dress code Schlatt’s been enforcing.

Tubbo looks small in the clean, sharp suit. It’s just a bit too large; the sleeves are rolled up once or twice, and the shoulders are too wide for Tubbo’s thin frame. It’s a far cry from his usual ripped green shirt and jeans.

He shrugs the jacket off and loosens his tie. He still stands up straight, is still wearing a pristine dress shirt and creased slacks, but he looks just a bit more at home, now.

“Hullo,” he says, slinging the suitjacket over the back of one of the chairs. “Sorry about not bringing anything. I haven’t had any spare time with all the busywork Schlatt’s been giving me.”

Eret tenses. There it is. There’s the reminder of the threat that still looms over all their heads. Their eyes meet Niki’s for just a second.

“That’s okay.” Niki’s voice is kind, but it also leaves no room for argument. “We have plenty.” She gestures towards the table, dispelling the momentary awkwardness. “Please, sit!”

Eret slides into their chair, and across from them, Tubbo and Niki do the same.

They fork a steak onto their plate, and then look over at Tubbo. His usual slouch is absent, his dish is empty.

“D’you want one?” they offer, and he nods.

“Thanks.”

Eret smiles at him.

“Pass the butter, please?” Niki asks. Immediately, Tubbo hands it over. 

She takes it, gently, before slathering some onto her potatoes. Her first bite is hesitant - they’re still hot - but she perks up when she tastes the blend of spices that Eret used to cook them. “These are wonderful. How did you season this?”

Eret grins back at her, launching into their explanation. Out of the corner of their eye, they can see the stress slowly melting from Tubbo’s shoulders.

The rest of dinner is warm and familiar, absent from as many mentions of Pogtopia or L’Manburg or Wilbur as possible. The curtains are pulled tight to hide them from the outside world; all they need is each other and the food between them.

The festival is something that’s been coming for a long time, according to Tubbo. He says as much when he’s excitedly telling Eret about his plans for stand decorations and speeches. And, Eret realizes with a warm swelling of their heart, they’re so happy for him.

Nonetheless, Tubbo may be giving the speech, but Eret refuses to fill another seat in that audience. So, instead, they content themself with the view they get from atop the battlements of their castle and resolve to ask him how it went later.

It’s really a beautiful day out. The sun hangs low and bright in the mid-morning sky, still warm enough to combat the winter frost that creeps ever-closer. The sky itself is a gorgeous, bright blue, and the air is filled with the sound of the birds that have made their home in the castle’s peaks.

The most Eret can hear of the festival, from here, is the dull hum of someone speaking over a microphone, too far away to make out any individual words. Even if they can’t understand it, even if they know it’s full of nothing but propaganda, they smile proudly on Tubbo’s behalf.

He’d been so excited when he’d come to them with a rough script written in chicken-scratch handwriting, barely legible to its own author. 

_“Schlatt’s asked me to give a speech at the festival,”_ he’d said, a soft grin wide on his face, and even though Eret’s heart burned with a furious hatred for Schlatt, they’d cheered for him. _“I want to run it by you_ . _"_

Tubbo had read it out in its entirety, Eret listening from where they were seated in the grass outside their castle walls, patient through Tubbo’s stutters and pauses as he struggled to read his own handwriting. They’d given him pointers, a slight word change here, a weirdly-worded sentence there, and he’d beamed and taken it in stride.

Eret was the one to pen the final draft, at Tubbo’s request.

They smile at the thought of it.

There’s a sudden light. It’s so blinding that Eret is shocked out of their memories and forced to flinch away instinctively, shielding their eyes. That’s followed by a thunderclap of sound, piercing deep into their eardrums, and after that comes the heat, dry and smelling distinctly burnt.

When they look up again, everything is silent except for the crackling of a hundred fires.

All they can do for a long moment is stare, shell-shocked, at the smoke rising from L’Manburg.

It suddenly dawns on them who exactly is at the center of the blast.

“Fuck!” they shout, bursting into action. “ _Fuck!_ ”

They frantically sprint towards the nearest staircase, nearly tripping over the edges of their cloak as they just try to go as _fast as possible_.

Eret’s castle has always been peaceful; it’s far away from the border between the Dream SMP and L’Manburg. Once, it was a point of pride that Eret was the sole owner of the last piece of serenity in a quickly-decaying world.

Now, though, as they sprint down the Prime Path, as the ash and smoke cloud the sky more and more, they curse that fact.

Their lungs ache as they round the corner of the path that lies on Tommy’s old property. The stitch in their side gets worse with every step as they run over the giant hole that the path spans. They’re forced to stop, doubling over and gasping for every breath, at the exit of the dirt tunnel.

When they look up, it’s so much worse than they could have ever imagined.

The part of the Prime Path that led down to the riverside is collapsed and half-submerged. Bits of broken planks are scattered over the river’s banks. Debris floats in the water, bits of stone and wood and clay getting swept downstream by the current.

Beyond that, there’s nothing left. It’s hard to see, through the ash and the smoke swirling in the morning air, but the distinct silhouette of the Camarvan is missing, and the redwood trees that stood over L’Manburg are gone.

All that’s left is the flag and the bright red sun, coating this tragic scene in a hellish glow.

Eret remembers the revolution, remembers the last time that L’Manburg was blown to bits. This, though? This is nothing like that.

This is so much worse.

With what feels like Herculean effort, they finally manage to break out of the horrified trance they’ve found themself in. They put one foot forward, then another, then they find themself jumping down into the river.

The water is freezing cold, and it punches the air out of Eret’s lungs. They’re shocked still for a moment, adjusting to the temperature, before they push themself to the surface of the river, paddling past the floating debris. The dirt of the river bank is soft and malleable under their fingers and boots.

Eret coughs, loud and harsh, as they start to run into the thick of the smoke. Without slowing their stride, they pull the fluffy collar of their cape over their mouth and nose. It’s uncomfortable, the wetness of the fabric clashing with the dry heat of the air, but it makes breathing a lot easier.

The first thing they see is an awfully familiar crater.

This must be the center of L’Manburg, the part of the country that the walls once protected. The earth is split open, revealing and deepening the scars that have run under the ground since Eret first carved them out and filled them with explosives.

Just like they had thought, the Camarvan is gone. 

The sight is horrifying, and it brings up old memories that Eret had thought they buried, but they can’t afford to linger. They press on with only a single glance sent backwards.

They stumble around the edges of L’Manburg, where the walls used to be. They’re careful to not step in any of the small sinkholes forming where the already-soft earth is starting to cave in, unable to hold up its own weight any longer. The fallen trees burn around them, the wood popping and squealing and _screaming_ in the flames.

It’s clear to Eret, the second that they see it, that the festival grounds were the main focus of the TNT.

The stage is nothing more than a gaping hole, now. A few pieces of jagged stone jut out of the burning earth; the blackstone roof has collapsed. Bits of wood and cobblestone and black brick have been scattered across the equally-destroyed festival grounds by the explosion. Shards of the glass that used to cover the pond crunch under Eret’s boots.

Behind this desolate shell, the White House is the only thing left. It stands above the carnage, left perfectly, purposely untouched.

There’s nobody there - not that Eret would be able to see them if they were, not with the thick clouds of smoke that spew from the still-burning fires.

“Hello?” they call again, coughing with each breath. The only response is the popping of fire.

Eret’s fingers sink into the dry, cracked earth as they scramble up the side of the hill. The dirt crumbles away beneath their hands, and they almost fall multiple times, but they press on.

With a final heave, they make it over the edge of the top. Immediately, their vision narrows in on a brown-haired figure dressed in a rumpled, black suit laying face down on the ground. Their heart stops.

“Tubbo?”

They stumble, falling to their knees at Tubbo’s side as they cross those last few feet of distance. Hesitantly, they reach out with one gloved hand, shaking Tubbo’s shoulder with a sort of terrified gentleness. Half his face is covered in blood, they realize, horrified.

He doesn’t move.

“Please, please, please,” they whisper, and they flip Tubbo over, hovering a hand just over his nose.

He’s breathing.

“Oh, thank Prime.” Eret sags in relief. Tubbo’s face is dirtied and bloodied and his suit is torn and ruined, but he’s _alive_. Eret doesn’t know what they’d do if he wasn’t.

Something crashes down in the distance, something that sounds _big_ and _world-ending_ , something whose sound rings through Eret’s skull. They crouch over Tubbo’s body instinctively, only coming up again after a few seconds, when it’s clear that the crash wasn’t anywhere near them.

They don’t want to know what could have made that kind of noise. They don’t want to stick around to find out if anything else can rival it.

“Let’s get you out of here,” they say, oh-so-gently lifting Tubbo off the ground.

Moving through this hellscape alone was hard enough. With someone else in their arms, Eret finds it near-impossible. Tubbo’s small, but he’s still dead weight, and Eret’s already struggling to breathe.

Tubbo hacks out a cough; Eret stops dead in their tracks. Thinking quickly, they unclasp their cloak from around their neck, wrapping the red and white cloth around him before pressing on.

The fire bites at their arms, and the smoke was already hard enough to breathe in without something covering their nose and mouth. Still, though, they force themself to take step after step after step, and slowly, the treeline gets closer and closer.

Eret stumbles and nearly falls for a heart-stopping second. They catch themself on the wall of the White House.

They look behind them. L’Manburg isn’t any prettier.

“Put him down.”

Eret’s head snaps around, and they find the business end of Tommy’s sword in their face.

“I’m just trying to help,” they say desperately. Tommy doesn’t let up.

“Put him down. Now.”

Eret pauses, and weighs their options, and then relents. “...Okay.”

The second Tubbo leaves their arms, Tommy’s already at his side, gently slapping him on the cheek.

“Get up,” Eret hears him mutter. “We have to go.”

“He was knocked out when I found him.” Tommy doesn’t look up at Eret, but he’s clearly listening to their words. “He was close to the center of the blast, I think. I don’t know if he’s hurt or not.”

“...Alright.”

Tommy sheathes his sword, and Eret steps back as he loops one of Tubbo’s arms over his shoulder. He stands, and faces the woods, and he starts taking his first steps away from L’Manburg when Eret says, “Wait.”

Tommy pauses mid-step.

“Just… keep him safe.” Their arms are held rigid at their sides, their hands fluttering uncertainly.

“I will,” Tommy says. There’s a beat of silence, save for the crackling of fire, and then he speaks again, his voice strained. “I’m - I’m sorry.” For once, it doesn’t sound like one of his bullshit half-apologies. With that, he’s gone, and Eret is alone, Tubbo’s blood and L’Manburg’s ash staining their hands.

They can feel the warmth of the flames against their back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoo!!!!! less than a week between updates :)
> 
> this was deffo my favorite part of this verse to write so far. finally, some original content and not basically just a summary...... we're getting into the Good Shit now.
> 
> i hope to get the last chapter of this up within the next couple weeks, and then from there i'm probably gonna do big q's pov? maybe the blade's idk. we'll have to see.
> 
> thank you so much for reading <3 i hope you enjoyed and i hope you have a wonderful day!!! pls comment and kudos if you enjoyed, it helps me a lot :,) also if you liked this, you may or may not like another work by me called "this too shall pass." it's about the ending of dreamsmp s1 and it's significantly softer than this LMAO


	4. to hold her hand just one more time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the explosion, a family finds each other again.
> 
> Where do they go from here?

Niki’s got her coat on when Eret stumbles through her bakery’s doors. They sag in relief when they see her.

“Eret!” she gasps, and she ushers them into the kitchen. They know they must be an awful sight to see; dark smears of blood and ash are left behind on everything they touch.

“Thank Prime you’re alright,” they say, easing themself into a wooden chair at Niki’s bidding. “I wasn’t sure how far the explosion reached.”

“I’m fine,” Niki reassures. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Their voice is hoarse from the smoke, but they’ll live. Niki backs off of them just a bit.

“Did you see anyone else?” Her brows are furrowed in worry. “I was just about to go out to look.”

“Saw Tubbo. Tommy has him. They’ll be fine. Nobody else.”

Niki noticeably relaxes. “That’s good. Are - are you sure that was it?” There’s a beat of silence, before Niki speaks again, markedly quieter. “Did you see any sign of Wil?”

“...No.” Eret’s voice is just as hushed as Niki’s. “I looked, but - nothing. I’m sorry.”

“...That’s okay.”

Niki drops into a chair on the opposite side of the table. Her frantic, worried energy is mostly gone, now, replaced instead with a still, solemn silence. Eret reaches up to take off their crown and fiddle with it, but all their hand meets is hair. They must have lost it somewhere in the chaos, must have left it to burn with the rest of L’Manburg. 

Their hands fall back to their lap, awkwardly still. They feel naked without their crown, without the matching robes.

“I saw it happen,” Eret says, breaking the silence. They cast their eyes downward. “From the top of my castle. I just - watched it.”

They don’t say _I should have been there_ , at least not outright.

Niki huffs out a sigh, her hands clenched on the table in front of her. “I didn’t know what was going on. The earth just - shook, and when I looked outside, I just saw the fire. It felt like the world was ending.”

She doesn’t say _Tubbo needed me there._ Eret gets what she means anyway.

Their hands shake in their lap. They grip the hem of their shirt to steady them.

The bell above the bakery’s door jingles. Eret and Niki look at each other for a moment before they both leap to their feet.

A familiar fox rounds the corner, looking just as battered as Eret does. Niki grabs the closest object off the table, leveling it at him.

“What are you doing here, Fundy,” she asks, her voice suddenly fierce. Eret doesn’t know how she manages to make the butter knife clenched in her hands look threatening.

On the other side of Niki’s wrath, Fundy holds his paws up defensively. “I’m not here to fight,” he says.

“Prove it.”

“Please.” Fundy’s voice has a desperate edge to it. “I didn’t know where else to go. I never wanted this. I - I’ve been undercover this whole time, I’ve been lying to Schlatt-”

Niki scowls up at him. “How am I supposed to believe that? After everything you’ve done?”

“He’s telling the truth,” Eret butts in, laying a hand on Niki’s shoulder. “I can vouch for him.”

“Please,” Fundy says again.

Niki looks from Fundy to Eret and back again, before she slams the knife back down on the table. “Fine.”

Fundy relaxes ever so slightly. “Thank you.”

She eyes him for a moment, and then says, “Sit.”

It’s an olive branch, the closest thing to forgiveness Fundy’s going to get, at least for right now. He sits, wincing at something.

“You alright?” Eret asks, quietly. Fundy nods.

“What do we do now?” he asks, and Eret thinks he’s just echoed the thoughts of everyone in the room.

It’s silent, for a moment, and then Niki huffs.

“We should go out in a bit, when the fire’s died down. See if there’s anything we can salvage,” she says, with finality. “And from there… we’ll just have to figure it out."

Eret nods.

Things are changing irrevocably. They can feel it in the air, can taste it on their tongue.

But, this time, they at least know they’re on the right side of history.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAN!
> 
> we are here at the end of eret's section of this au :,) this took far longer than it should have to write but, oh well. this has been such a ride ! i'm so excited to keep going with this au and start getting into the Good Shit. (i think big q's pov is gonna be next ;))
> 
> thank you so much for sticking with me :DD if you're reading this, i love you and thank you <3

**Author's Note:**

> WOAH so this au is getting out of hand very quickly. as you can see i have three more chapters planned for eret's pov alone. i have Plans. also, this is almost the biggest project i've ever worked on, which is fucking crazy to think about. it's only about a thousand words behind the current biggest.
> 
> anyway! thank you for making it down here. i really hope you enjoyed!! if you can, please leave a comment or kudos. it's absolutely not necessary but it does help to see feedback :).
> 
> thank you so much again!! i hope you have a lovely day<3


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